by T. A. Miles
“I don’t know how much I care about the egg itself, but I don’t want an adult dragon here. This will not be another incident like that which the Imperial City faced.”
Jun Kai looked at him, seeming in need of explanation, so Ha Ming Jin provided it. All that he had heard from rumors and from his own officer’s account of the aftermath. “It was brought down by the gods’ weapons,” he concluded. “I have no such assets here.”
The xylomancer appeared to have enough information with which to make a decision. He reached into the pouch at his belt and plucked out what looked like a sliver of wood. Gesturing for Ha Ming Jin to stay where he was, he ran his hand over the surface of the stone, then selected a porous location in which to insert the splinter. He closed his eyes and spread his fingers afterward, making a slow rotation with his hand over the area.
Ha Ming Jin watched him at first, but then watched the stone. For many moments it seemed as if nothing at all had happened. But then a number of wooden thorns began to poke out from within the stone. Before his eyes, they began to expand. The boulder lurched as it began to take on many cracks and soon chunks of it fell away onto the floor.
The rock gave way to the wooden cage that had formed within it, which now held the egg as if in an encircling nest. Ha Ming Jin moved toward it.
“Wait,” Jun Kai said, holding out his arm.
When Ha Ming Jin drew to a stop, the xylomancer pulled back the sleeve of his robe and reached into his own creation. He negotiated his hand beneath the egg, then took down the stick formation with a simple gesture.
The wood clattered against the floor, adding to the debris from the boulder. Jun Kai stood with the egg in hand.
Ha Ming Jin hesitated, disinterested in causing the mystic to drop it. “Bring it to me,” he instructed.
Jun Kai drew it to himself first and set about examining it. Eventually, he did carry it to Ha Ming Jin. The egg was passed to him with a swift, unannounced motion that had Ha Ming Jin virtually juggling it, before it ultimately slipped through his hands and cracked upon the floor.
Ha Ming Jin’s heart hit the inside of his ribcage abruptly enough that he thought it might rupture, while at his feet the egg dispensed…sand.
It was and had always been a rock, a fabrication constructed by Han Quan.
Ha Ming Jin’s hands folded into tight fists while he contained his urge to lash out.
“There are no dragons here,” Jun Kai told him. He walked toward the throne and sat down upon the edge of the dais. “Now that I’m here…tell me about the aeromancer Xu Liang and his barbarian heroes.”
THE RETURN FROM Du was taking too long. Whatever had delayed Xu Liang, the troops could wait no longer. In order to properly execute what was Xu Liang’s own strategy, they had to leave by a specific time. Shirisae understood that. She’d already been south and understood the challenges that faced a large group of soldiers. Even as her unit was assembled with her positioned at the head of the rows—Wan Yun, the guards that had been assigned to her, and one very out of place handmaiden gathered alongside her—she found herself looking anxiously toward the gate behind her. In truth, she did not know which gate Xu Liang would join them through. It would depend upon whether or not he came directly to them, or first made visits to his home, the Empress, and wherever else he may have felt necessary before setting out on another campaign.
A part of her would have preferred to have waited at the Empress’ side, as she believed he would go nowhere without first checking in on Song Da-Xiao’s health. But his instructions for her had been that she leave when scheduled. Her unit was required and, for purposes of morale, she was meant to lead them…to ensure that the struggle against chaos in Sheng Fan was backed by higher forces. She agreed to that way of thinking because it was her own as well. If it was not true, the Phoenix would not have chosen Xu Liang. His guidance was the guidance of the Phoenix.
Tian Qi gave the rally to the troops, and Shirisae turned her attention to the front rows. The man who was typically mellow of tone exhibited a strikingly full and assertive volume now. She found herself caught off guard by the passion behind his speech, which cited the abusive and reckless abandon of Ha Ming Jin, who was guilty not only of treason against the Empress, but of sacrificing the innocent people of Xun in order to gain ground in his plots to build his own despotic rule. He attributed their fight to justice and honor, labeling peace as their goal.
Peace by way of war was confusing logic at best, but Shirisae did understand why they were gathered. And Tian Qi’s speech did its work. The troops raised cheers of support with enthusiasm that must have been heard over the distance of one end of the Imperial City to the other. The atmosphere raised Shirisae’s spirits as well. She felt part of something quite vast.
In her periphery, she detected movement through the forest of raised arms and looked, tilting herself forward in Kirlothden’s saddle, just enough to see past the rows in her way. Xu Liang was there, atop Blue Crane and making his way to the front of the collected units. The beauty of him was as out of place as the innocence of Pang Xizhi, but his presence instilled an immediate sense of safety that Shirisae didn’t know she required. Beyond physical or even emotional safety, it was spiritual…comparable to if she’d gone home, to a place she was needed and which needed her.
Yes, she was a part of something vast…and important beyond words in any language.
XU LIANG TOOK his place at the head of the troops, having not seen Shirisae, but knowing that she was there among the ranks. When he faced the rows and did manage to locate her, he noticed that Wan Yun had stayed by her and also, her handmaiden. It was unprecedented, but so was Shirisae. The girl would likely be kept at base camp, with or without Shirisae present.
It would be at the first campsite along their march that Xu Liang intended to go over with Shirisae what had been learned at Tiong Zhong. Er Chiong had presented him with the notes while Tarfan had followed him throughout his house while he readied to leave, explaining as much as he could recall in the time allowed. Ultimately, the dwarf had decided to remain at the Imperial City, which was perhaps the best option. He knew, based upon Tarfan’s own accounts, that dwarves were not typically warriors, though they could be skilled hunters and combatants versus the threats they faced within their home environment.
The weeks and months ahead would be marked with war on a scale that even Sheng Fan had not witnessed in at least two generations. The time had come to end the dance of the Crane.
Heroes of the Empire
THE RETURN TO the Kang Su Province was different only in that it was spring, rather than autumn, and the upcoming hills were even greener. What had previously been in the beginning stages of fading was now vibrant, and brilliant beneath a blue sky. There was no threat of rain the day the troops arrived at the same resting point as they had months ago. Once again, the forces would split, but rather than wait to regroup, the central units would carry on south while those that had branched east would make a trail down the coast, toward Bei Xo. There would be no journey to the school. Ma Shou was reportedly still there, and there he would have to remain.
Xu Liang expressed that it was yet the safest place for him to be, since he still had not acquired the information and understanding he believed was necessary to interrupt a necromancer’s enchantment. He believed that if Che Wen Tai had been able to do so himself, that he would have stated as much in correspondence that had been received since Ma Shou was sent to him.
Shirisae did not feel badly about the fact that she was more concerned with Cai Zheng Rui’s safety, but she consoled herself with the likeliness that if anything had happened to the bodyguard, Che Wen Tai would have mentioned that also.
Their greater concern was the entanglement of Lei Kui, Han Quan, and the Night Blade. Shirisae sat in the tent of the generals, nearly forgetting that she was considered one of them. While the others ate, discussed strategy, and took the time to be entertained by Pang Xizhi’s zither—which the girl played with skill Shirisae
had witnessed often among the ladies of the court and which she had been told was only otherwise matched by scholars, who were required to study music as diligently as policy—she and Xu Liang spoke of the puzzle of the necromancer.
“I believe that the woman in Tiong Zhong was Lei Kui’s mother,” Shirisae said. “And that Lei Kui was responsible for the curse upon the village. Perhaps, after the loss of his twin, he went mad with grief and then with a desire for vengeance.”
“Perhaps,” Xu Liang permitted, their combined notes in hand.
Shirisae wondered what he had seen already that she had not.
“Han Quan murdered the girl,” he continued, “believing for some reason that it was required in order to obtain the Night Blade, which had been briefly carried by their mother before it was hidden.”
“Hidden to protect the children,” Shirisae assumed.
Xu Liang seemed to agree, and nodded. “But at some point, the children discovered it. Han Quan knew that.”
“He must have tricked the girl into leading him to it, then killed her.”
“He may have indeed done so.”
“But what’s missing?” Shirisae wondered.
“Perhaps nothing,” Xu Liang said. “Lei Kui went to the school already suffering, but not from the raid performed by Cai Shi-meng’s soldiers—his mother was spared by Yan Huochou, and both he and his sister survived as well, as is evidenced by the later murder of the sister by Han Quan. Cai Shi-meng had ordered the raid in search of the Night Blade, yes, but under the guise of exterminating practitioners of undisciplined sorcery.”
“The mother was a sorceress.” Shirisae recalled that they had arrived at this threshold before, during their conversation with Che Wen Tai seasons earlier.
Xu Liang nodded. “Yan Huochou defended her from Cai Shi-meng. I believe it possible that Cai Shi-meng attacked her, believing that she had the Night Blade already…or perhaps that attacking her would bring it to him. It would bring Yan Huochou.”
“Yan Huochou may have been wielding the weapon on her behalf,” Shirisae suggested.
Xu Liang confirmed that his logic was headed there by nodding once. “It takes tremendous strength to wield. It seems unlikely that an ordinary woman—particularly a very young one—would be able to do so without difficulty, but she may yet have seen a way to use it through her lover.”
“But what would stop him from succumbing to the Blade and taking it for himself?”
The manner in which Xu Liang paused to consider suggested that he might already have an answer. Eventually, he said, “What if Yan Huochou had been a target of officials, and had been badly wounded or killed? What if the Spirit of Death had blessed the mother—as well as one or both of her children—and with a wildly derived mystic talent, she raised Yan Huochou to take revenge? He would have been bound to her. The Night Blade would have returned, to her.”
Shirisae saw the reasoning. “And after the confrontation with Cai Shi-meng, she might have realized the danger of the Blade—maybe of what she’d been practicing without it as well—and hidden it from her children so that they would not inherit her darkness.”
Xu Liang drew quiet again.
While he pieced everything together in his mind, Shirisae observed the lighter nature of the other generals. She had received very few extended looks from any of them by now, and their demeanor appeared relaxed, though the battle they were headed to may have been among one of the greatest their culture would know. It seemed that the goal was to fully remove Ha Ming Jin from his seat of power. Would there only be four kingdoms in Sheng Fan afterward? Or would someone new be put in position at Bei Xo? Regardless, the generals were enjoying their meal, and their drink, and the company of a pretty young girl whose music layered eloquently over the men’s talk.
“I believe,” Xu Liang finally said, “that Lei Kui’s mother was the bearer of the Night Blade for a time and that it began to drive her to madness. I believe that she used Yan Huochou to wield the weapon against Cai Shi-meng, which forced the Blades apart and ultimately led to the downfall of Cai Shi-meng. Song Dai had discovered and claimed the hurtled Spear of Heaven. Lei Kui’s mother saw the opportunity to bury the Night Blade, and did so. Her madness may have lingered.”
“She might have set the curse upon the village?” Shirisae asked.
Xu Liang nodded. “Before coming to Guang Ci, the Night Blade appears to have inspired two things; acts of tremendous ambition and acts of violence against one’s own family or people. Whether the sword was first wielded by Yan Huochou or Lei Kui’s mother, it led to the assassination of an Emperor and potentially the destruction of Tiong Zhong. Malek Vorhaven, also a practitioner of sorcery, laid a curse upon his own people which became the keirveshen. Han Quan may have briefly held the weapon, and he has endeavored to assassinate and destroy.”
The evidence seemed clear, and worrisome. “But why not Guang Ci also?”
Xu Liang detected her worry. “I believe that Guang Ci is one who can walk the path of Zan Dexiu…the path of darkness…and not succumb to madness.”
Shirisae accepted that, and then took her mind from it with another question. “And what of Lei Kui?”
“It is my theory that he went to the school after the destruction of Tiong Zhong,” Xu Liang replied. “And that his sibling was unable to accompany him. The Spirit of Death connected with his suffering, and it was Han Quan who—equipped with the knowledge of Cai Shi-meng—helped him to escape for the purpose of retrieving a lost Celestial Sword. The Night Blade was discovered, the sister murdered, and now Lei Kui seeks vengeance, driven by the ghost of his sister and also by his outrage; against Han Quan, against the school…possibly against all of us.”
Shirisae paused now, to settle all of it in her mind.
“Thank you for going to Tiong Zhong,” Xu Liang said to her before she had finished processing their conversation. “It is my hope, based upon all that has been learned, that bringing Han Quan to justice is as important as ending Ha Ming Jin’s rebellion.”
THE CHANGANG PROVINCE turned out remarkably different in terrain than anywhere Tristus had yet been—in Sheng Fan or any other part of Dryth. The raised pillars of earth that had verged upon the horizon throughout much of the early days of travel gave way to plains marked by flatter rises cresting above the tall grasses. Forests eventually returned, at first featuring the leafy columns and bent pines of some of the forested regions Tristus had already been to. But after a time, the pines ceased to appear and the woods became denser…thick with layer upon layer of undergrowth, draping with vines, and marked by trees that bore their leaves in broad tiers over the length of narrow trunks, some of which possessed bark reminiscent of the scale armor of a Fanese soldier. The air had also become absolutely saturated, with or without rain. It was hotter than Tristus would ever have anticipated, having entered Sheng Fan by way of a cold mountain range, and having just come out of winter in the Imperial City.
Ye Huo welcomed him to the Tiger’s jungle. Tristus nearly failed to notice the words, bemused as he was by the peculiar amounts of birdcalls, many of them much more animated than the forests he was accustomed to. When he commented about them, he was told that they were the calls of birds and also the cries of monkeys. Tristus did not inquire after just what such a creature might have been. They were lively enough, that was certain.
Base camp consisted of a wall primarily made of timber. Largely, there were logs aligned tightly beside one another to form walls. There were gates on three sides, and large deposits of material and food located near a reinforced center area. It was its own model of the traditional Fanese fortress, a much smaller version than the castle at Zhi Shen, where Tristus had spent some days waiting for the neighboring troops to collect. They had marched in great number and were technically beyond the border of Tzu, which meant that conflict would be any day.
The home of the Yuan family was set back quite far into their territory, but there was an important fortress near. It lay along the route that was to
be secured in order to prevent an army from Tzu making its way into Ji or across Xun to assist the governor of the south. Du was supposed to be holding the other half of the northern border of Tzu. At least, if the Green Dragon would not actively contribute, it would make an impassable line. In so doing, Tzu might concentrate a large portion of its effort to arranging a norther defense. That would leave some of the focus off of what went on in the east.
Xun, of course, would have some of its forces rallied on the Tzu border to prevent Ji’s forces entering. In fact, it was originally believed that Xun had intended to work with Tzu in order to do precisely what Ji was doing now, but in reverse. Of course, Xu Liang had turned it around on them.
Zi Shu had been tremendously helpful to Tristus in helping him to know and understand the strategies and the reasoning behind them. It was different than what he knew—much different—but it was in the realm of everything that he knew at the same time. It was only a matter of learning to ride a new horse, so to speak. And he had certainly done that a time or two. It had taken Tristus almost a year to train Sylvashen out of biting. He hoped to become a proficient soldier in Sheng Fan in less time. It was either that, or fail to impress where impressing was vital to continuing to gain trust and support morale.
Within the central shelter of the fort, the charts were laid out on a table for the purpose of reminding all present officers of the exact plan of attack. If it were meant to be a defense, they’d have stayed at Zhi Shen. The swiftness of the march, so soon after Tzu’s declaration of war against the Empress, was meant to catch them off guard. It was quite an aggressive stance that Xu Liang had taken, but Tristus understood it. Fires left untended would only grow worse.
THE EASTERN WATERS off of Sheng Fan were remarkably tranquil. Alere spent his days becoming accustomed to the ship itself; orienting himself with directions, locations onboard the ship, procedures during the event of assault by weather or enemies…an abundance of topics he would not have considered prior to being on such a vessel. It was nothing he had considered aboard the Pride of Celestia.